


New Year's Eve

by lillyluna



Category: Phlochte - Fandom, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Bromance, Epic Bromance, First Time, Frat bro Ryan, Friends to Lovers, Gainesville, New Year's Eve, Or does it have a plot?, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillyluna/pseuds/lillyluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is on his way to Mexico for New Year's but then Ryan happens. </p><p>A stand alone one shot. It's pretty bro-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for an amazing year bbs! I love you all <3

Michael hasn’t spent a lot of time in college towns. Ryan however, seems to somehow rule his. Michael knows it isn’t absolute power, he figures there has to be plenty of people in Gainesville who hate Ryan. Guys that hate him for sleeping with their girlfriends, girls that hate him for not calling them back and probably (as much as Michael hates to think about it) guys that also hate him for not calling them back. 

Michael isn’t really sure how Ryan still hasn’t had the whole thing blow up in his face. He’s told himself that maybe Gainesville has a Las Vegas mentality, that what happens there stays there and that as much as people might hate Ryan they have to kind of love him because he’s winning gold medals for them and not Florida State. Because fuck ‘Noles. 

Michael’s seen Ryan’s myspace page. He’s seen pictures of him in compromising position with guys and kissing guys wearing shirts with his name on them but nothing. Nothing ever happens to Ryan. 

Unless Ryan happens to Ryan because Ryan does a lot of dumb shit. Ryan rides his scooter (who rides a scooter?) without a helmet and bombs skateboards down hills without checking for traffic. Ryan doesn’t think before accepting dares and for the most part Ryan assumes that he’s invincible. 

Concussions happen to Ryan Lochte but scandal usually doesn’t. 

Michael is in Gainesville on New Year’s Eve. Michael is at a bar, in Ryan’s camo shorts and one of Ryan’s t-shirt with a baseball hat he’d found in Ryan’s living room but that actually belonged to Devon. His phone and Ryan’s phone hang heavy in the pockets of his shorts, which sag low on his waist because Ryan is a size bigger than him.

Michael had checked his luggage on a plane to Mexico and then Ryan had happened. Ryan had interrupted their month long back and forth exchange of Lil Wayne lyrics with one message that definitely did not come from a Lil Wayne track. 

“Fuck Mexico. Florida jeah!!1!1” 

And, because he does dumb shit too, Michael had. 

Michael had landed in Jacksonville with no luggage and without telling Ryan he’d changed his plan. Walking off the plane he’d started to panic because Ryan hadn’t said come to Florida. Ryan hadn’t said come to Gainesville. Ryan hadn’t even invited him. Ryan had just really only pronounced his love for the sunshine state (or extreme enthusiasm Michael is never exactly sure about the words Ryan chooses to replace with his newfound favourite one). 

Michael has dubious knowledge of the geography of Florida and had panicked for a second about the proximity of Jacksonville to Gainesville. He had no reason to believe Ryan even in Gainesville. Ryan could have been home in Daytona. Ryan could have been in Las Vegas. 

Michael hadn’t known how he would explain his pre-Mexico detour to Florida when he eventually would have to rebook a flight to his original destination. 

Somehow, when he’d walked out of the arrival gate, Ryan had been waiting him. 

“Fuck yeah man!” Ryan had enthusiastically exclaimed, running towards Michael and almost knocking him over with the force of his hug, “Dude I was like this is dumb he ain’t gonna come but you like did.” 

Michael hadn’t asked but Ryan had explained anyways. 

“I was ready to be bummed out man.” Ryan had said pulling away from their hug but keeping one of his hands on the back of Michael’s neck, “Like I knew there was a flight ‘an I was hoping you’d like take that one an’ not dick around and you wouldn’t like fly to fucking Orlando or some other place. You figured it out!! Jeah!” 

He had almost looked proud and Michael had quit thinking about his luggage sitting abandoned in an airport in Mexico. 

Devon had been had been at the airport too, hanging back behind Ryan and wearing one of his chains. Happy enough to spend time with Ryan to get dragged along on what could have easily ended up being a wasted trip to an airport. 

“Hey.” He’d waved. 

There’d been lukewarm bottles of Mountain Dew in Ryan’s car and they’d stopped at Taco Bell before heading back towards Gainesville. Ryan had flirted with the girl taking their order through the static-ey drive through microphone and scored them insane amounts of hot sauce packets. 

“Dude!” He’d proclaimed triumphantly after peeking into the bag, “We got stocked up!” 

Like always, Ryan drove with one freckled hand out of the window and his other hand drumming along to the too loud music on the steering wheel. He drove too fast and wove in and out of traffic. Swerving quickly to avoid being hit on more than one occasion. 

“I just get bored man.” He’d apologized when Michael had cried out alarmed as a semi suddenly merged back where Ryan had been trying to merge in. “Gimme a taco? I’m driving.” 

Ryan had no free hand to eat with and Michael is forced to awkwardly hold a taco up to his friend’s face and wait for him to bite. More taco fell on Ryan’s lap than got into his mouth. 

Ryan’s house had been messy and the front driveway littered with skateboards and what Michael guessed was a half finished home made ramp. There were empty pizza boxes and Publix subway wraps all over the coffee table and on top of those laid the PlayStation and all of it’s controllers. 

“No pics.” Ryan had warned, “My mom sees this place I ain’t gonna get to keep DC. He’s gonna have to go back and he gets bored.” 

The hot sauce packages had gone into the appropriate drawer in Ryan’s kitchen and Ryan had made a half assed attempt to clean up. He’d picked up a few solo cups and a pizza box and kicked Carter’s bed back to it’s spot by the wall. 

“Didn’t know you were coming.” He’d apologized. 

“You asked me to come.” Michael had reminded him. 

“Jeah.” Ryan had grinned and reached out to hug Michael again, “I did.” 

At the bar, Ryan has disappeared. Devon who Michael knows isn’t old enough to drink is lining up tequila shots and finding girls to do them with. Ryan’s fame is apparently enough to allow a high school kid to pick up college girls. 

“Here.” Devon messily pushes a plastic cup of tequila to Michael, “Cheers.” 

Michael hates tequila but he downs the shot anyways. He looks around for Ryan and spots him behind the bar. He looks like he’s taking order and Michael hits Devon to get his attention. 

“He works here?” Michael asks alarmed suddenly concerned about Ryan’s sponsorships and Ryan’s business manager. He can’t imagine Ryan picking up a part time job between classes and training. 

“No.” Devon rolls his eyes, “S’how he picks up chicks.” 

Ryan spots Michael looking at him, winks and ducks down under the bar leaving his current customer hanging. The girl yells at him in anger but Ryan doesn’t turn back. He makes his way back to the booth they’ve commandeered, sits next to Michael and reaches out for one of Devon’s tequila shots. 

“You didn’t get her order.” Michael points out. 

“Ain’t a bartender.” Ryan defends himself. 

The few girls had been flocking around their table seem to multiply. Someone orders more shots and a girl asks Ryan to drink one off his abs. 

“Nah.” Ryan shakes his head before dropping his arm around Michael’s shoulder, “Not into it.” 

They leave the bar before midnight hits and have to half carry a way too drunk Devon into the house. The New Year rings in while they’re both crouched on the kitchen floor trying to force feed Devon a glass full of water. 

“Yo.” Ryan tips Devon’s chin up, “You die mom ain’t gonna let you hang out again. No college girls.” 

His last threat motivates Devon enough to drunkenly reach for the glass of water. He spills half of it but manages to down enough liquid to pacify Ryan. 

It isn’t a surprise ot Michael that Devon already has a room in his house. Ryan puts him to bed and hovers around him for a second. 

“You think he’s like poisoned?” He asks Michael concerned. 

“I dunno.” Michael shrugs looking at Devon’s passed out shape, “We can check on him.” 

“Okay.” Ryan answers still looking dead serious, “Yeah, I’ll put a timer.” 

Ryan shuts the light in Devon’s bedroom and closes the scorch-marked door behind him, then reconsiders and leaves it open. 

“Case.” He explains to Michael, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Michael agrees even though he doesn’t understand what Ryan’s talking about. 

Ryan nods and soundlessly makes his way back to his bedroom. He hadn’t seemed drunk at the bar or on their way home but now Michael thinks that maybe he is. Ryan stumbles against a forgotten remote control car that’s been left lying at the door of his bedroom. 

“Oh shit dude.” Ryan laughs, “That’s where it went.” 

He picks it up and thumbs the wheels for a second before putting it back on the floor. He leans against the wall and looks up at Michael. 

“Bed?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” Michael agrees and after a second thinks that like his cryptic invite to Florida, Ryan hadn’t just invited him to his bed. Just to bed. “I’ll crash on-” 

“Nah.” Ryan says before he pinches an inch of Michael’s t-shirt between his fingers and pulls him forward into his bedroom, “You like sleep here.” 

Ryan’s bedroom is dark green and black and Michael doesn’t even know if those are his favourite colours. There are shoes lined up toes against the wall and Michael spots Ryan’s grill from Beijing on the floor near his desk. There’s an American flag pinned to the wall and a poster of Carmen Electra Michael guesses is a left over from Ryan’s high school days. 

Ryan watches Michael looking around his bedroom and scratches the back of his neck. He looks worried. 

“It’s messy.” He acknowledges, “I just like… Didn’t know and then I was like you’re not gonna and then you did and I was like it still might not happen but so I didn’t wanna look like I tried y’know so yeah. This is like it is. Sorry.” 

Instead of waiting for Michael to answer, Ryan tugs up on the inch of t-shirt he’s still hanging onto. He pulls until the t-shirt is half way up Michael’s chest before grabbing the hem and pulling it up above and over Michael’s head. 

Michael doesn’t think of raising his arms so the t-shirt hangs awkwardly off his elbows. Ryan slides a warm hand from Michael’s shoulders down his arms and takes the t-shirt off of him entirely. He drops it on the floor.

“If you borrow stuff y’should put it back where it came from.” Ryan says frowning with his voice a few notches lower than usual, “S’polite.” 

Ryan reaches back for Michael, running his hands up Michael’s arms back on his shoulders and down his chest. 

“Breathe dude.” Ryan urges when he doesn’t feel Michael’s chest rise. 

Ryan doesn’t wait for Michael to breathe before he starts to reclaim his shorts. He undoes the button fly with one tug and the shorts fall to the ground. 

“S’ok?” Ryan asks, his hands rubbing somewhere close to Michael’s ribs, inching to get closer to his stomach. 

“Yeah.” Michael answers dumbly, “Um go.” 

Ryan smiles before taking his hands off Michael’s skin to remove his own t-shirt and the tank top underneath. He has a large bruise on his left side. 

“Hit the skateboard ramp.” He answers when he catches Michael staring, “I don’t think I broke any.” 

Before taking off his shorts, Ryan takes a step forward and wraps both his arms around Michael pushing him back towards the bed. Michael looks back at the ground trying not to stumble on any of the stuff scattered across the floor. 

“I got you.” Ryan laughs, “Know you’re a klutz.” 

Ryan’s comforter is bunched up near the foot of the bed and Ryan kicks it entirely off when he lays on top of Michael. He grabs a few pillows and arranges them back near the headboard. He kneels up for a second and a loud squeak emits from the mattress. 

“Fuckin’ Carter.” Ryan groans, reaching down and picking up a tennis ball with half its fuzz chewed off, “Loves this thing.” 

Ryan throws the tennis ball back behind him before he reaches for his belt. He hesitates for a second and looks down at Michael. 

“Wanna help?” He asks suggestively. 

Michael owns the exact same belt Ryan is wearing but undoing it from a different angle proves to be incredibly difficult. He struggles hard before the front part clicks and he’s able to slide the end out. 

He rubs his hand on the front of Ryan’s shorts reaching for the button and feels how hard Ryan is. 

“Yeah.” Ryan encourages. “For you.”

Michael groans at Ryan’s choice of line but undoes his shorts anyways. Unlike him, Ryan isn’t wearing any underwear. He’s already half hard and Michael wraps a hand around him to give him a few slow, long strokes. 

“Fuck yeah.” Ryan grins, leaning down, his face resting a few inches away over Michael, “Yeah like that.” 

Ryan holds his hips still. He lets Michael’s hand do all the work for a few seconds before he wraps his hand over Michael’s to stop him. 

“Shit I’m like.” He kisses Michael, “Fucking right there and I don’t wanna like- that be bad. Feels too good.” 

Michael drops his hand off Ryan and folds his arm behind his head. He reaches for a pillow to rest on. 

“This is what I want anyways.” Ryan keeps talking while he kneels back up over Michael, his knees on either side of Michael’s thighs and his fingers hooked on the waistband of Michael’s underwear, “Yeah fuck.” 

Michael is fully hard. He brings his hand back down between Ryan and him and starts jacking himself off. He watches Ryan bite his lip and strokes slower. 

“Jerk yourself off.” Ryan commands, “I wanna see.” 

Michael does it unselfconsciously, trusting up into his own hand to give Ryan a show. 

Ryan doesn’t touch himself. He rubs his hand back and forth on his own stomach and stares down at Michael. 

“Fuck yeah Mike.” Ryan moans. 

Michael hooks his free hand around Ryan’s thigh to hold him close. His fingers stroke his skin. Ryan’s dick bobs between them leaking precum. It drips down from Ryan’s head to land on Michael’s shaft. Michael rubs it off with his thumb and spreads it across his head. 

“Shit dude.” Ryan breathes heavily, “This is fucking hot. I wanna like-” 

Ryan doesn’t finish explaining what he wants. Instead he leans up over Michael to reach for his bedside table. He stretches out his arm to open the drawer. 

“Motherfuck.”Ryan exclaims in pain. He cups a hand over the bruise on his ribs and bows his head down to the mattress beside Michael.

“What?” Michael says alarmed, he lets go of his dick and rubs a precum-smeared hand on Ryan’s back without thinking, “Doggy.” 

“Shit.” Ryan swears, “Fuck maybe they’re broken.” 

“Your ribs?” Michael guesses.

“Yeah.” Ryan says with his voice still pained, “Fucking ramp.” 

Ryan doesn’t move and Michael doesn’t know what to do. He sits up a bit and slides up as much as he can from under Ryan. He kisses the parts of Ryan he can reach; the hand covering up his bruised ribs. 

“I’m okay.” Ryan groans, his face still buried in the mattress. He turns to look at Michael, “Wait.” 

Instead of stretching himself out again, Ryan crawls forward over Michael until his still hard dick is somewhere close to the middle of Michael’s chest. Michael momentarily thinks of sliding down to suck Ryan off but before he can position himself, Ryan is back kneeling against his thighs. 

“Lube.” Ryan says holding up a bottle, “Bubblegum.” 

Michael is about to question the second word when Ryan pours some of the lube into his hand to warm it up. The smell of bubblegum immediately becomes overpowering. 

“Had glow in the dark.” Ryan almost apologizes, “But it itched so yeah bad story.” 

Michael likes bubblegum in his mouth he isn’t sure he wants it all over his dick. He starts to protest when Ryan wraps a hand over his dick and Michael suddenly doesn’t care. 

“Shit.” Michael groans, “Yeah Ry.” 

“Hang on.” Ryan asks, slowing down his hand for a moment, “I wanna like-” 

Ryan pushes his hips forward until his dick is rubbing up against Michael’s. He gives himself a few strokes because he wraps his fingers over Michael’s head and the base of his own dick and keeps moving slow. He presses Michael’s head against his shaft on every up stroke. 

“Yeah.” Michael says again, not having the mind to come up with a new word. 

Michael wraps his hand around his shaft, moving his hand to match Ryan’s strokes. He imagines his dick sliding a few inches back to slide into Ryan and bucks up against him. He thinks of how tight Ryan would be and the thought pushes him over the edge before he can warn Ryan or ask him to slow down. 

“Dude I ain’t gonna neither” Ryan admits, “Fuck.” 

Ryan falls forward against Michael’s chest. He keeps stroking himself, his hand bumping up against Michael’s stomach. 

Michael is still hard. He slides the head of his dick between Ryan’s cheeks and presses up against him without going anywhere.

“Christ.” Ryan cries out, “Yeah fuck.” 

“Yeah?” Michael asks his mouth close to Ryan’s ear, “Wanna?” 

Michael’s hand is still covered in bubblegum lube. Without waiting for Ryan’s answer he pushes a finger against Ryan’s hole and presses it in. 

He doesn’t push past his first knuckle before Ryan cries out and Michael feels hot liquid pooling against his skin. 

“Fuck dude.” Ryan exclaims, pressing his forehead against Michael chest. His voice is wrecked and his body is boneless, “Fuck.” 

Michael doesn’t stop. He pushes his finger past the first knuckle and waits for Ryan’s reaction. He doesn’t get one until his finger is almost all the way in and he hooks it pretending to know what he’s doing pretending he hasn’t only seen this in porn. 

He does it right because Ryan cries out against his chest and bites down on his skin. Michael feels his dick twitch against his thigh. 

He doesn’t miss Mexico.


End file.
